The Devil's Advocate
by VampedVixen
Summary: Connor enters a fight to the death in order to win back his father's Shanshu. Post-NFA.
1. Chapter 1

The Devil's Advocate  
  
Chapter 1  
  
By Vixen  
  
The hushed conversation caught Connor's attention as he walked down the stairs of the hotel. It wasn't any of the usual occupants of the hotel; he had grown to learn each of their voices during the last few days he had been staying there. It was a man speaking; obviously not Illyria and it did not have the English accent Spike's voice possessed.  
  
The man who was speaking quieted. There was a moment of silence, allowing Connor to move a few more steps down. Hiding out of sight, he leaned on the stair balcony, craning an ear towards his father's office. Angel was talking now; saying something about how he would not accept the offer the other man had presented to him.  
  
Connor fought the urge to sneak down by the door of the office, and remained hidden on the stairs. It sounded serious; not something he should interfere in. That didn't mean he couldn't eavesdrop however.  
  
The stranger's voice sounded again, louder this time; "I will ask you one more time to consider this proposal carefully. It's just one little fight; win it and you would gain back your Shanshu. You would have the chance to become human again. We have the contract at our office. It's on the table, the prize should you choose to accept the challenge. We'll give you till tomorrow to decide."  
  
Something pounded against the wall, and Connor ducked out of view. A second later and his father came out of his office, holding the man by the cuffs of his jacket, "Let me make this clear to you. My answer is no." Angel chucked the stranger backwards. "I am not participating in your death match, so take the hint and get out of here. While you still can."  
  
Brushing himself off, the suited gentleman responded, "As you wish. Though, you do know that without retrieving the contract from us, there is no way that you will ever become human. You'll live and die a vampire, and then burn in hell. Enjoy yourself, Mr. Angel."  
  
The man left in a huff, while Connor shut the thoughts his words had brought up out of his head. Hell. Eternal damnation. He wouldn't wish that on anyone, well, maybe just his old high school math teacher who quite possibly could have been a demon, but not his father.  
  
Angel clenched his fists, bottling up his anger, though he looked like he might explode and punch a hole through one of the walls soon. He cocked his head towards the stairs and then walked over to them, only to find Connor slowly creeping back up the stairs. "You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to spy on me."  
  
Connor turned around, faking an innocent expression, "I wasn't doing anything."  
  
"Right," Angel grunted and then returned to his office.  
  
Connor followed him into the cave of solitude he'd made of his office. The boy had been staying at the hotel ever since summer break at college. He'd told his other set of parents that he was going on a two month road trip vacation with friends, not knowing how to explain this other part of his life to them. Ever since he had arrived at the Hyperion however, his father had kept to himself, alone with the grief that had followed the battle with the Black Thorn. Connor almost felt guilty over having asked if he could stay there, but he'd also wanted to get to know his father again. It was a miracle they were both alive by this point, and Connor didn't want anything else to ruin it. "So, um, who was that guy."  
  
Angel busied himself with paperwork, another endless case for Angel Investigations that was going nowhere fast. With only Spike, Illyria, and himself working in the private agency, the case files had been piling up, lacking the management Wesley had brought to the team. Answering Connor's question he said, "No one important. Just a.. client."  
  
"Riiight, yeah, okay," Connor sat down in a chair that occupied the other end of the office. The old leather creaked, it had a sense of history, all the furniture in the hotel did. So did the people who inhabited the place. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, starring up at the ceiling absently as he heard his father still shuffling papers, "Fill me in: When did we go back to the lying part of our relationship? I thought we had decided to be truthful with one another, but hey, if you can't tell me, then I'll deal. I may have to chuck you back into the ocean to get over it, but I'll deal."  
  
Angel starred at him for a moment, half believing him, before seeing the smirk on Connor's face, "I really wish you wouldn't joke about that."  
  
"And I wish you wouldn't lie to me." Connor straightened up, his hands falling back down to his lap. Were they going to play this game forever, hiding under excuses and lies? It was a road he had no intention of walking down, therefore he had no problem stepping on his father's toes, just this once, and beginning what he knew what bound to turn into another one of their famous arguments.  
  
Angel closed the black binder he had been sorting through, and placed it back down on the mahogany desk. A sigh escaped his lips, as he searched for a proper explanation, "The man who was just here was a promoter for an underground boxing ring. He wanted to set up a match between one of his champions and me. I told him no. End of story." He stood up from the desk. Picking up two binders from his desk, he went to put them back in the tall metal cabinet that took up the corner of the room.  
  
"Except you left out the part about the Shanshu prophecy," Connor pointed out, knowing a half-truth when he heard one. He had learned of the prophecy a few years ago, during the summer he had stayed at the hotel with Fred and Gunn. Back then he had considered it unjustified, figuring that anything that had killed innocents for so many years did not even deserve the mere possibility of becoming human one day. Connor had thought about it a few times since getting his memories back and now it seemed like a dream, like the redemption both he and his father were searching for. But like most of his dreams, this one wasn't going to come true. "You never told me you signed it over to the Black Thorn."  
  
Angel closed the filing cabinet, and took a beat before replying slowly; "I had to. There was no other way to earn the trust of the inner members."  
  
"So, you just signed over your only chance at humanity.. just like that." Connor shook his head, hurt and disappointed. There was also guilt lingering in between his emotions. He knew what his role had been concerning his father's takeover of the Wolfram and Hart company. He crossed his arms and frowned, "And then when you have the chance to win it back, you won't even try. It's not like it would be that hard; you're a good fighter. You could probably kick this guy's ass, finish the whole thing, and win the damn contract back if you just tried." Connor picked up a business card from the desk, turning it over in his hands. On it was written the words 'Mr. Petrovia - Promoter, Organizer, Manager.' There was an address too, pointing to the classier part of the city. "This is the address, isn't it? Where you would show up if you gave a damn."  
  
"This isn't up for discussion," Angel took the card from Connor, ripped it up and tossed the paper scraps into the wastebasket. The boy gritted his teeth and made an even tighter frown, watching the remains of the card drop down into the garbage. Leaving his office and the conversation simultaneously, Angel told him, "You don't understand."  
  
"You're right." Connor said, following him back into the lobby, unwilling to let the conversation die. There were some things Connor would never understand, mainly why his father was so pig-headed sometimes. "I don't."  
  
"It's a trap." Angel starred down at the boy, using the full sway of his parental dominance.  
  
"It's a chance to fix," Connor paused, his voice betraying his tense emotions, "everything..." He sighed, and came back with an edge of anger, "But, no, don't do it, it might take away your reason to brood. You know, ever since Wolfram and Hart was destroyed, you've been acting like you're only half alive.."  
  
"I am, only half alive," Angel reminded him. "Technically, undead."  
  
Connor rolled his eyes, "That's not the point. The thing is, when I asked you if I could come visit I thought we could.. I don't know, hang out or something.." Suddenly, he felt self-conscious bringing that topic up. Bonding seemed like the furthest thing from Angel's mind at the moment. He was still grieving over Wesley and Gunn, and Connor hated to cause more trouble for him. Still, the way his father was withdrawing from the world, and him, hurt. "but you've been avoiding me the whole time I've been here. You say you're busy with work, but that's not it, is it? It's me."  
  
He heard his father try to stop him, try to apologize, but Connor was already stomping up the stairs, headed for the room that had been set aside for him. Disappearing into the bedroom, he slammed the door behind him. Leaning on the oak wood of the door with his forehead, he sighed, "That went.. well."  
  
There were just too many emotions bottled up inside him; he had to get them out somehow. Even if yelling, screaming and slamming doors didn't usually solve anything, it had made him feel marginally better. Turning on the radio, Connor hit the volume up to the highest number and zoned out on his bed. He picked up a weathered baseball that was sitting on the nightstand and tossed it in the air, only to catch it again with perfect accuracy. There was a plan forming in his mind, he only had to act on it. It would most likely get him in a huge amount of trouble, but that wasn't going to stop him.  
  
When he woke up the next morning, the plan went into action. While his father was still asleep, Connor took advantage of the daylight hours and snuck into his office. He picked up the trashcan and emptied it out onto Angel's desk, luckily it had been empty save for all the pieces of the torn up business card. He sorted through the pieces, working them like a jigsaw puzzle, trying to make them fit together to reform some semblance of order that would allow him to get an address off the card.  
  
Sitting at the desk, he played around with the scraps of paper for a few minutes, until the finished picture started to become clearer. A name. An address. After writing it down on a nearby legal pad, Connor ripped the sheet of paper he had just scribbled on and tucked it into his cargo pants. Tossing the remains of the business card back into the pail, he put the garbage can back against the wall, just like it had been before. No one would even know he had been in the office, hopefully.  
  
He rushed past the lobby, grabbed his coat, and left a quick note for his father telling him he'd be back in a little while. Then Connor left the hotel, and looked at the address one last time. It was only a few blocks away; he could make it in a half-hour by foot. He just hoped he knew what he was getting into. The plan was not without its risks, but he wasn't about to give up on the only chance Angel had left. After all, you gotta do what you can to protect your family.  
  
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More coming soon.. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Devil's Advocate  
  
Chapter 2  
  
By Vixen  
  
Massive. It was the only word Connor could think of to describe the mansion the address had led him to. On the outskirts of the city, the southern colonial estate was situated at the end of a long road concealed by stately trees. Tall, black iron gates prevented onlookers from coming onto the private property. The boy peered through the gates and frowned. This was what being evil apparently bought, a nice home and plenty of money. It wasn't right.  
  
Hitting the intercom on the brick column that formed the sides of the gate, Connor heard it beep and waited for someone to answer. There was a long pause before anyone replied. The only sound was the camera attached to the top of the arched column moving its lens towards him. Connor eyes it suspiciously, but a voice from the intercom brought his attention back to the electronic device.  
  
"State your name and business, sir."  
  
He pressed the talk button on the intercom and said, "Uh.. Connor Reilly, I'm here to talk to Mr. Petrovia." He paused, knowing that wasn't going to be enough, and then added, "Tell him I'm Angel's son."  
  
He stepped back, wondering if that would be enough. He relaxed a bit when the gates began to swing back, opening up to the cobblestone driveway. As he walked towards the house, Connor kept a suspicious eye on his surroundings. Trust was not a luxury he could afford in his enemy's territory.  
  
A butler opened the front door by the time Connor reached the porch. Leading the boy into the house, he closed the door behind them. The butler, whom Connor had nicknamed Alfred due to his resemblance from the Batman comic, gave a cordial nod and gestured for Connor to follow him, "This way, sir."  
  
The inside of the house was no less awe-inspiring. From the lobby, Connor followed Alfred down a wide marble hallway that seemed to go on forever, passing several locked rooms, some expensive looking artwork, and one historically accurate suit of armor. After entering the east wing of the mansion, they made a right down another corridor and arrived at an open doorway.  
  
The same man who had been at The Hyperion the day before was seated at a large desk. Shuffling over paperwork, he looked every bit the businessman, just like what Connor's father was trying to pull off. Only Petrovia did it much better, mounting success upon success and showing off his pride with every movement. Gesturing to Connor, Petrovia got up from his desk, "Come in, young man. Connor, is it?"  
  
Petrovia stuck out his hand, but Connor would not accept the hospitality. Instead, he gruffly asked, "You still have the contract from the Black Thorn, the one about the Shanshu prophecy, right? I want to take my father's place and enter the competition for it."  
  
"Hold on," Petrovia laughed, leaning back against his desk he crossed his arms. "While it is true I did come to acquire the contract when the Black Thorn fell momentarily, why should I place it on the bargaining table when I'm not so sure you are who you say you are. Vampires can't have children, you know."  
  
Connor sighed impatiently. Did he have to explain this to everyone he met? "It's a long story." Suddenly he heard someone behind him. Spinning around, he saw a man holding a crossbow and an arrow bolt headed straight for him. Catching the arrow in midair before it hit its target, he threw it on the floor and whirled towards Petrovia, anger catching in his throat, "Do you try to kill everyone who comes to talk to you?"  
  
"Impressive." Petrovia ignored Connor's outburst and glanced back at the man with the crossbow, "Thank you, Mr. Jones, you may go." When they were again alone, the man spoke again, "Connor Reilly, son of Angelus, heir to the Order of Aurelius.. with you headlining in the opening match, I could bring in quite a lot of money."  
  
"Then it's settled." Connor said, "You want your money. I want the contract. It's a win-win situation."  
  
"That is, if you do win. You do realize this is a fight to the death, correct?" When Connor nodded, albeit somewhat hesitantly, Petrovia produced a piece of paper from the drawer of his cabinet. Placing it on the desk, he pointed to the bottom line, "Sign here, please."  
  
Connor read over the contract. Was this what his father had felt, he wondered, when Angel made his own pact with the Black Thorn? The overwhelming apprehension that he might be signing over his life mixed with an unyielding need to do whatever it took to gain the advantage. He noticed one small line on the paper in small print, "What is this Sorcery Consent Clause?"  
  
"Simply put, if you fail to show up on time for the match, I am legally allowed to let my shaman curse you, or kill you, or whatever he'd like to do that particular day. That way, even if you run away, you won't get far."  
  
Connor put pen to paper, signing his name, "I won't run."  
  
Petrovia took the contract, looked it over once and told Connor, "Everything looks to be in order. Like it said in the contract, the match is on Friday, eight o'clock at Club Evolution."  
  
"I'll be there," Connor told him before leaving. Walking out of the mansion, he knew he was being watched, but it didn't matter. They'd let him go, for now; he was Petrovia's ticket to many more years living in the lap of luxury. While he hated helping the man rise to an even higher status of wealth and power, it was the only way life could possibly ever be normal for Connor. The only way his father could possibly ever become human.  
  
.................................................................  
  
As Illyria performed an effortless roundhouse kick in Connor's direction, he managed to duck under it and avoid the blow. It had taken him all week, but he was beginning to make some progress. Or at least he thought so until she backed up her first kick with a backhanded punch. He was just recovering his balance when she came back with the swing. Unable to avoid it this time, he was knocked into a metal bookcase that occupied one of the corners of the basement.  
  
She smiled, enjoying the fact that she was still powerful despite having a moderate amount of her ability stolen by Wesley's machine. That had been months ago, when she was just becoming accustomed to life in her new shell. Now, she knew how to make the human bodywork for her, how to instill fear in her enemies. She knew it was only a sparring match and had she really hurt the boy there would have been hell to pay, still the vampire offspring had said to use full strength and given that option she wouldn't hold back.  
  
Connor stood up, managing to catch his breath. It was all in the name of preparation, he reminded himself, getting ready for the fight. However exhausted Illyria made him, he wouldn't quit. He shook away the pain from the fall, and looked over at the cocky ex-goddess, "Again."  
  
Illyria nodded, a pleasant expression coming over her. She really did enjoy hurting him and she was enjoying getting all the violence out of her system with no repercussions. "If you seek to continue your stupidity, I am more than ready, child."  
  
Connor, who was used to her prodding insults, ignored them. Though he still couldn't figure out why he had ever found her attractive. It was the outfit, had to be. Maybe the fact that he had always found Fred kind of cute, plus the sheer vigor and poise Illyria possessed. Maybe also the fact that she moved like she owned the room and the way her muscles were tight and firm was not lost on him either. As he lunged at her, she flipped him into the air and down onto his back. He groaned, nope, definitely just the outfit.  
  
"You are as frail as the rest of them," Illyria said, her cold eyes starring at his lying beside her feet. "What do you hope to accomplish with this? You will never beat me in a match, either real or for a practice drill."  
  
Connor grinned back up at her, she was acting like he had already lost though he still had one more trick to try. Kicking his feet at her calves, he managed to take her by surprise and topple the ex-goddess. She fell to a heap on the floor, entangled with his feet. She kicked away from the dogpile, gathering herself and standing back up. Simultaneously, he rolled back onto his feet, and fell back into a fighting stance. "You like to talk a lot."  
  
"In my time, those I spoke to cowered before my presence." She struck out at him, but he backed away just in time. "I was both feared and revered. I will not be beaten by the spawn of a vampire today." By the time her words left her mouth, she had used feigned punches to back him into a corner. "Let this be a lesson."  
  
Before Connor had time to react, she had lifted him by his shirt and slid him across the stone floor. The force that she tossed him was so quick it sent him into the far wall, bumping his head against its stony façade. He moaned and lifted a hand to his head, sitting up slowly. There was going to be a rather large bump there in the morning, he thought he could already feel the area swelling.  
  
While Connor tried to get reacquainted with the idea of a world that was not spinning with nausea, Spike laughed. He was sitting on the stairway in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. Connor had been so caught up in the fight he hadn't even realize that Spike was watching the match. He frowned and shot the vampire a look, "How long have you been there?"  
  
"Long enough to tell Blue hasn't lost her touch."  
  
Illyria took this as a well-deserved compliment and simply stood there and accepted his praise. Connor on the other hand, pouted and began to leave the room. He'd taken enough punishment and humiliation for one day; he didn't need it from Spike too.  
  
As the boy was passing Spike on the stairs, the vampire looked up at him, "What exactly are you planning? You've been acting like you're going into battle, all week down here getting your arse kicked. If there's a party going down, you'd best tell Uncle Spike about it."  
  
Connor rolled his eyes, if anything Spike was more his nephew. It was hard to tell with vampire relatives how the family tree would be drawn. Moreover, he didn't need anyone butting into his affairs. They were his own problems and he'd handle them alone. Lying with the skill of an expert, he told the vampire, "Nothing's going on, Spike. Illyria and I were just practicing. That's it."  
  
"You do know," Spike took the last drag from his cigarette, and stubbed it out on the stairs. "Whatever you do have up your sleeves, I will find out. In fact, I'm making it my next new hobby. Got nothing else going on at the moment anyway."  
  
Connor sighed, annoyed and didn't dignify the vampire with a response. As he stomped up the stairs, he heard Spike talking to Illyria, "Wanna help, Blue? Find out what up with the kid and win a prize."  
  
"You will be my prize."  
  
"Uh.. no. Not really, pet."  
  
The conversation died down as Connor closed the door behind him. He grimaced, the match down at Club Evolution was in two days, Illyria was still winning their matches, and now Spike seemed compelled to find out what Connor was hiding. There was no backing out of the fight now, however. He had no choice but to show up at the club as promised, whether or not that wound up getting him seriously hurt or worse.  
.................................................  
  
To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

The Devil's Advocate

Chapter 3

By Vixen

It took a while to get out of the hotel on the night of the big fight. Spike was on his case, as he had been ever since the talk on the basement stairs. Angel was worried too now. Took him long enough, Connor grumbled to himself when his father had asked what his plans for that night were with that concerned frown the vampire had perfected over the years.

Connor hadn't really lied; he told his father he was going out to kill some demons. Just a little twist of the truth. In actuality, there was only one demon he cared about, whoever he was pared up with. He still didn't know what kind of thing he would have to fight. That was part of the fun for the crowd that came to watch, he figured. Though going in unprepared bothered him.

He'd practiced with Illyria for the past week, been kicked in the ribs enough times by the ex-goddess to learn how to duck her blows. At least some of them. But that had just been practice. She had restrained herself, made sure she didn't injure him beyond repair. Connor would not have that luxury tonight.

Walking up to Club Evolution, Connor could feel the excitement in the air, the rush of adrenaline already kicking in. Wearing just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he stood out among the high-class well-dressed spectators. There were people staring, sizing him up, probably in order to see which way they should place their bets that night. They'd be disappointed if they bet against him, Connor thought to himself, because there was no way he was going to allow himself to lose that night.

He pushed his way through the crowd into the building and down to the bottom level of the club. On the balcony, the wealthier congregation could watch the nightly games without having to mingle with the masses of drunken rowdy fans, but down on the bottom level the smells of smoke, beer, and sweat invaded his nose. There was something else in the air too, the metallic scent of blood.

Connor could see the source when he got to the front of the crowd. There was a cage in the middle of the floor, about fifteen feet big. Through the cloud of smoke that hovered in the room like a fog, Connor watched as the first fight of the night progressed inside of it. A tall scaly gray demon was in the process of jamming the razor end of its elbow into a vampire, taking it's sweet time with the victory. The crowd cheered the demon on, chanting to finish it.

As the vampire's head was completely sawed through, the bloody stump of his body fell to the floor. Before it reached the cement ground of the cage though, it had turned to dust. In the demon's hand, the head simultaneously dusted, while he threw up his hands to accept the crowd's ovation.

"Dazzling, isn't he?" An unfamiliar woman's voice tickled Connor's ear. She cooed out her words, wrapping her lips around each syllable, "He does this nightly, a true warrior if I ever saw one."

"I doubt you have," Connor replied coolly as he glanced over at her. Though short and thin, she wore an expression that said she was not to be taken for granted. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail of tiny dark brown braids, each of them dropping down to her tiny waist. The dress she was wearing was long and slinky, not the type of outfit that suited the rest of them down there. She looked out of place, like she had gotten lost on the way to the stairs and now was forced to mingle with the common people.

She was watching at him intently, like she knew something about him. Or wanted to know. Probably trying to gain more information for the upcoming fight, he figured. She touched his shoulder playfully and spoke again. "I've read up on you, Connor. Wolfram and Hart had this whole big case file on you. I had to go through a long list of contacts to get it once your father destroyed the Los Angeles sector of the company, but it was worth it. You have led quite an interesting life; it was good reading." The woman took a sip from her long-stemmed wineglass and continued in a gossiping tone, "So, tell me, what was Quor-toth really like?"

Connor shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of how annoying this stranger was becoming. It would be better to save up all his hostility for the match. Instead, he just flashed her a twisted grin. "It was fun."

When the woman instinctively stepped back, Connor thought he had succeeded in scaring her off. Though when he heard Mr. Petrovia's voice behind him, he knew that wasn't the reason why, "Alexandra, what have I told you about walking around down here?"

Alexandra instantly left Connor's side and nestled up to Petrovia, "Oh, honey, we weren't doing anything. I was just talking to the boy, honest." She threw a smirk in Connor's direction. "He amuses me."

"There's 9-to-1 odds against your new friend here. I just don't want you to be disappointed if he dies tonight." He pushed her away, handing her off to another suited gentleman. "Go with Michael. He'll get you back to your seat." As Petrovia's associate led her away, she pouted. When his girlfriend had left, Petrovia asked, "Are you ready?"

"More than." Connor said proudly, trying to gain an extra bit of confidence. "I didn't earn the nickname The Destroyer for nothing." He glanced back at the demon in the cage as a judge was making the final announcement of the win. "Is that who I'm fighting tonight?"

"Not him, no. We've got a special opponent picked out for you, someone who will match your strength and skill." Petrovia answered, looking back at the ring as the demon fighter walked away almost unharmed. If Connor's opponent was stronger than that one, he might just have a problem on his hands.

A judge with a microphone walked to the center of the ring. Speaking to the crowd he announced, "The next match will begin in five minutes. Please finish all betting at the ticket office as soon as possible, because you will not want to miss this next match."

Petrovia turned to Connor, "Time to go, kid."

"Oh goodie," The boy muttered before heading to the ring. The crowds jostled him as he pushed his way towards the entrance of the ring and he only narrowly missed getting beer splashed in his face by a lady who was too wobbly to stand up on their own. He glared at the woman and she managed to avert the direction she was falling in. It really wasn't Connor's kind of place.

If his parents had found out he hanging out in a dive like this, they'd be more than a little pissed off. His kid sister would probably get a laugh out of it though. She still thought of Connor as the straight A-student, making the honor roll and top of his class, not getting into bar fights with demons. How little she knew.. Connor shook his head, clearing his mind of thoughts of his family. They would only distract him from what he had come there to do.

Connor stepped into the makeshift boxing ring. As the judge padlocked the gate that encircled it, the boy looked out at the mixed crowd of demons, vampires, and humans who came to see this underground cage match. Then he turned to see his opponent, all eight feet of him. Oh, this was going to hurt. The prize had been too good to pass up though.  
  
The Destroyer smiled, "Bring it on."  
  
He wasn't going to fail this time.

The demon and the boy circled each other, neither making a move, only studying their opponent. Spike's protruded from each of the demon's knuckles, looking much like brass knuckles only much sharper. The first objective would be to avoid those things at all costs, especially with the size of the muscles that made up the thing's arms. It was liable to take Connor's whole head off if the boy missed ducking a punch. As he surveyed the demon's moves, Connor realized that it didn't use its legs much, the thing looked a bit top-heavy. Even when it began throwing punches, it didn't make any kicks. Perhaps that was the key.

The demon made another swipe at Connor with his hairy arms. The boy dodged and the crowd cheered. Part of them did at least, the rest was boo-ing. He threw his frustration into a punch aimed at the thing's torso, not believing how sick some people were. There he was in a fight to the death, trying to entertain the crowds, and they were boo-ing at him. Connor kicked at the demon's legs, causing it to stumble a bit and cry out in pain.

"What? Sensitive down there?" Connor laughed, kicking again. The demon retaliated by hurling its fist into Connor's shoulder. The boy tried to get out of the way of the approaching onslaught, but failed when he realized he was too close to the cage wall to move. Backed into a corner, he grimaced as the spikes on the demon's fist rammed into his shoulder, drawing blood. It was such a rookie mistake, Connor was more angry at himself than at the thing who had just damaged his shoulder. He blamed it on being out of the game for so long, there was no need for a demon fighter back home. He'd only been in two fights that whole year, Sahjahn and that guy at Wolfram and Hart before the building had collapsed. And Angel had won the one at Wolfram and Hart, while Connor had gotten knocked out. He hoped this wasn't a repeat of that, getting knocked out right there would not have been a good thing. Connor probably wouldn't even wake up if he did.

The demon backhanded Connor and the boy flew into the side of the cage. Connor's nose smashed against the metal bars and he let out a small groan, wondering if his nose was broken. He watched the crowd while trying to get his bearings and cried out again when he spotted someone he knew. He held onto the bars, squinting to get a better view through the harsh stage lights, hoping perhaps that it wasn't who it looked like.

Angel came closer to the front of the arena, flanked by a woman with blue hair and another vampire wearing a duster; there was no way Connor could mistake him. Angel looked at the cage and saw his son. At that moment, Connor wanted nothing more than to be invisible.

There were other things to occupy his mind however, as the seriousness of the fight snapped Connor out of his thoughts. The demon grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him up in the air. It slammed his back against the gate, hard enough to knock the wind out of Connor's lungs. As the boy gasped for air, the demon drew its spikes back into its fists, hitting Connor with its bare fists instead. It seemed to be enjoying the slow death this way would bring, instead of the quick death the spikes would wreck.

Connor tried to kick at the demon, put he was being held too high. When he punched the thing, his fists could only reach the heavy iron armor that it wore. He glanced sideways, when he heard a commotion in the crowd. His father was trying to stop the fight, but getting nowhere against the heavy security the bar

Two guards held Angel's arms while the vampire unsuccessfully tried to get past them. Connor's eyes met those of his father, as the vampire screamed out, "Connor!"

It was too late though; his father would never be able to stop the fight. Connor clutched his stomach as he slid down the wall. Why the demon had let him go, Connor couldn't be sure, unless it just wanted to torture him with a slow death. He came to rest in a little ball, curled to offer some protection against the demon that had delighted in hurting him. Connor could hear his father still calling out to him, but all he could think about was how much his body hurt and how much he had failed.

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One more chapter left. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**The Devil's Advocate**

_Chapter 4_

_By Vixen_

Connor was just about to black out when he heard his father's voice, louder this time. From where he was still being held by the security guards, Angel desperately attempted to get over the roar of the crowd and be heard, "Connor, get up!"

The boy slumped against the cage and focused in on his father's voice, trying to forget the pain that clouded his vision. The demon was standing above Connor, gloating. It turned to the crowd, summoning their cheers with open arms. The crowd was getting a kick out of this, cheering for the human's death.

Yet through it all, Connor paid attention to nothing but his father.

Connor, do you hear me? You are not a quitter. Now get up." Angel's words were forceful; it was the only tool he had to change the outcome of the fight. And it was working.

Connor grasped the bars of the cage, pulling himself up slowly. He nearly collapsed a few times; the pain was trying to pull him under. That was not going to happen though, he wouldn't allow himself to lose. It was now or never he realized, while the demon still had his back turned towards the crowd. Taking a deep breath, Connor let the last bit of adrenaline he had carry him through the attack.

He knocked his foot into the demon's legs, toppling him to the ground. They had been his weak spot, just like Connor had predicted. Connor fell to the ground with the momentum of the kick, managing to wind up right by the demon's head. Twisting its head with his hands, Connor managed to break the thing's neck. The demon barely knew what hit it.

Connor fell over onto his side, gathering back his energy. The bell rang, signaling the end of the fight and a judge unlocked the cage door. The official checked over the demon, and Connor watched him give a thumbs-up sign to another official up in a booth on the second floor. The announcement was made a second later, "Ladies and Gentlemen, that's the end of the fight. Connor Reilly is the winner."

He did it. Connor didn't know how he had managed to pull it off, but it was over.

After getting to his feet, he glanced out over the crowd. Part of them were cheering, but only from the money they had won. The rest looked annoyed. He hoped whomever had bet against him lost everything they had. The soulless vampires and demons need for violence he could understand, but the humans who had come to watch bothered him. They were supposed to be better than this, weren't they? They had souls; they each had a conscious. Or maybe, Connor realized, they really didn't.

The judge came to congratulate him, but Connor brushed him off. With a grunt he asked, "Where do I get my reward for being a part of all of this?"

Oh, the prophecy?" The judge pointed to a man in a dark gray suit, "See Mr. Reeves. He handles all of that."

Connor stumbled out of the ring without saying another word. No one involved with the fight was worth words. Limping slightly, Connor made his way down the stairs of the ring. His father was waiting for him by the door. The guards had let him pass by when the fight was over, seeing as how he could no longer sway the outcome. Thankfully the fight had worked out well in the end anyway.

What are you doing here," Connor asked as he struggled to remain standing, he held one hand to his throbbing head and willed the two blurry images of his father to form one. He noticed Spike, standing off in the background. "He told you didn't he?"

A smirk formed on Spike's lips, a clear yes.

I think a more important question would be why you're here." Angel looked at him sternly, pulling him off to the corner of the room where fewer people would bump into them. Spike followed, more because he just wanted to listen to the two argue then for any other reason. "God, Connor. You could have gotten killed."

Not if I won," Connor shrugged off his concern, which only made his shoulders ache more. "Which, by the way, I did." Before his father could start arguing, Connor said, "Look, can we have this conversation later? I've got to see a man about a Shanshu prophecy."

He slipped away, leaving Spike and Angel behind for the moment. He knew what his father would say, that Connor was just lucky, that he was one minute from losing the fight, and had he not gotten his second wind he would have died. It was the truth, but at the moment Connor didn't want to hear it. There was only so much he could take in one night and having his father angry over his fighting would have pushed Connor over the edge right then.

By the time Connor was able to track down the man about his reward, Mr. Reeves was chatting up another potential fighter eager to prove their worth. There would always be people to step into the ring, to try to make a name for themselves. Like with all of them, there was a fifty-fifty chance this new one would sign up and then die, but Connor didn't pity him. Everyone who fought knew he consequences, this one more than most after witnessing the two fights that night. They also knew the prizes that would be awarded in the event of their victory. It was almost fair. Almost.

Connor's mind again went back to his own reward. After the new fighter decided not to sign after all, he left and Connor had a chance to speak with Mr. Reeves. Wasting no formalities, eager to be back at the Hyperion, Connor jutted into the conversation, "The contact against the prophecy. I want it. Now."

"What's the rush, young man?" Reeves asked as he pointed to the bartender, ordering another drink. "Surely we have enough time for me to congratulate you on your match tonight. It was quite a show."

Show.

Connor's skin bristled at the word.

That's all it was for the big suits like Reeves and Petrovia, along with the rest of the spectators. Just a way to pass an evening, a night's entertainment. It wasn't their lives on the line, not their blood spilled. Someday though, Connor hoped it would be. For now, he was content just to ask for the piece of paper they owed him. "Do you have the contract or not?" His muscles hardened as his anger grew, "And you'd better say yes."

Reeves smiled politely, a little put off but still following proper etiquette. He retrieved the folded up paper from his pocket and held it before Connor. "All you have to do is destroy this with fire and the barriers put in place to stop the Shanshu from taking place someday will be destroyed."

The boy tried to snatch it away, but before he could Reeves took back his hand suddenly. Connor gritted his teeth, annoyed and growing more impatient with each passing moment.

The man continued, mildly amused, "Before you walk away though, Petrovia has asked me to extend the offer. How would you feel about another match? We would up the ante of course, reward you with anything you wished for. Money, power, fame.."

Connor grabbed the contract from his hands, nearly growling as he replied, "This is the only thing I want."

Leaving before Reeves could talk him into another deal, Connor found his father in the crowd. He could tell Angel had been listening to the conversation, only holding back so that Connor could handle it himself. The worried frown that creased Angel's lips was more than enough to show how much it troubled him that his son was growing up and had to tackle some of life's obstacles on his own. Connor wasn't about to let on that he knew his father had been listening in, protecting him from afar, reveling in the new found maturity and respect for a moment.

Then the boy flashed a grin, showed Angel and Spike the paper and quickly said, "Got it. Come on, let's go home."

Angel and Connor left the club together in relative silence. It was still a little noisy in most parts of the club to have any sort of rational conversation, at least that was the excuse Connor used. When they reached the streets outside, the quiet reigned again. Connor felt the cool night's air on his skin, cooling the sweat he'd worked up in the club off his body, and watched hesitantly as Angel looked over at him.

Before they could speak to each other, Spike came hurtling through the doors, with Illyria in tow. She was kicking him in the shins, but her protestations were mild, "I wish to witness the creatures partake in their blood sports again. You are a fool to halt me and my enjoyment."

"Blood sports," Connor asked, "I thought mine was the last fight of the night."

"Just a bar fight. Blue here seemed to be enjoying herself a bit," Spike cocked his head towards the door and simultaneously tried to restrain Illyria, who seemed to be only playing with him and not using her full strength. If Connor didn't know better, he'd swear the two of them had a thing going on between them. He spun Illyria around, facing her and wiggled his eyebrows at her, "Tell you what, Blue, if you come along like a good little ex-god, I'll let you kick me around a bit."

She nodded and smiled widely, relenting in her kicking of his legs.

Connor's mouth dropped, there really was something going on. Before he could ponder that, Angel threw an arm around his shoulders lightly and pulled him away from the two of them, not wanting the two of them to corrupt his son any more then they already had.

As soon as Connor made it to the Hyperion, he fell asleep in his bedroom. Rest came easy that night, though in the morning muscles he didn't even know he had hurt. Groggily hobbling into the lobby, he found Spike already awake or possibly not just asleep yet. It was hard to tell the patterns of nocturnal sleepers.

Spike looked up from the Saturday morning infomercial he had been watching. It advertised a product that was supposed to make the perfect onion flowers. The vampire had missed the ones at the Bronze ever since Sunnydale had gone belly up, literally. As Connor limped into the room, Spike called out towards the kitchen, "Hey, Angel, the kid's awake."

Angel appeared in the lobby a moment later, carrying a plate full of pancakes. He set it on the front counter and hastened to remove the cooking apron he'd been wearing. "I told you to warn me ahead of time, Spike."

"I did. He was on the last step when I yelled to you." Spike smirked, "Plus seeing you hurry out here in that," he pointed to the apron that hung across a chair now, "was well worth any punishment for being a bad lookout."

Angel growled, but pushed his anger aside and pulled up a chair to the counter for Connor, "I made you breakfast. You should eat something. You look.."

Connor waved off his concern. "I'll live." Sitting down at the counter, he looked at the plate of food, a bit amused. "I didn't know vampires could cook."

"They can't," Spike replied from the couch, "least he can't."

"Spike?" Angel glared back at him.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Spike mock-pouted, gasping in feigned surprise and turned back towards the telly. Meanwhile, Connor dug into the carefully prepared food, wolfing it down hungrily. He stopped when he saw the way his father was looking at him and gave a small sigh.

"You could have died," Angel said, a pained expression falling across his face.

"Oh, please," Connor smiled through the bruises on his face, "Takes more than almost getting beat to death to put a dent in my plans. Hell, I even died before and that still didn't stop me." When neither his father failed to see the humor in that, Connor went on seriously, "Look, Dad, I'd rather not make a thing of it. I did what I did, because I had to do it. That seems to be a pattern in our family."

Angel nodded, rolling the last word over in his mind. Family. It finally felt like one.

He looked over towards the contract that had been won the night before. It had been sitting on the counter the whole night. He'd been waiting for Connor to wake up to finally burn the thing and get rid of it once and for all.

Connor followed his gaze, hopped off his chair, and pulled a box of matches out from behind the counter. After striking one of them against the tabletop, he held the fire up to a corner of the paper, igniting it. In a flash of blue light, it crinkled instantly and was gone.

The power it held over the vampire was broken, though something still weighed heavily on his mind. "You do know, even if the prophecy is true it doesn't mean that it'll still happen. I have a long way to go before the scales balance."

"Guess you'll just have to try harder then." Connor crossed his arms and gave a shrug. The smile he projected was full of confidence that everything would work out eventually.

The faith he had in Angel was contagious.

"I will."

It was time to get back to work.

.END.

Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. I'm sorry it took so very long to get this last chapter out but my Connor-muse stopped talking to me and once I let the story sit dorment for so long it was nearly impossible to get back into it.


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